"Ah,
Mr.
Rincil! It's been a
while." A man’s
warm voice drifted out from the
shop.

Ten-year-old
Leslie
Murkor straightened in alert.
He threw down the stick
he'd
been
swinging around in what he
fancied to be sword practice and
bounded for
the
house. "Rincil" meant that
Jayden could be here, too.
Jayden accompanied his
older brother more often than
not these
days.

The
boy
peered out hopefully from the
back room of the shop. His
father was
speaking with Mr. Rincil holding
out a gleaming new blade for the
elven
man’s
inspection.

“As
you
can see, my darling wife is on
another rampage.”

Rincil
held
out a hand and Mr. Murkor
offered him the blade. It
had not
yet been
fitted with a hilt, but the elf
took it by the flat.
Leslie
watched him
run his fingers delicately over
the intricate runes etched near
its
base.
A faint blue glow traced
itself into the etching,
shimmered for a
while,
then dissipated.

“It
certainly
is an ambitious piece of work.
She is quite talented,”
he
concluded, handing back the
blade. “Of course, we know
your work
is, as
well, sir,” he added.

Murkor
smiled
in polite embarrassment.
“There’s no need to say
things
like that.
Your family does business
with many talented craftsmen,
much more
talented than us.”

“Less
ambitious
craftsmen don’t require elven
materials for their work.
My
father is always glad to do
business with you. And how
is your
wife?
Is she at home?”

“Positively
giddy.
She stays in the forge
when she’s onto something like
this.”

“After
a
piece like this?”

Murkor
sighed.
“Tell me about it.
But ‘It’s just not right,’
she
says.
I leave her too it.
She’s good at what she
does.”

“‘Enthusiasm...’
I
guess that is a good way to put
it. And, you’re right. I
can’t
imagine
her without it.”

“In
any
case, I assume her latest
project is why you’ve called
upon our
services.”

“Indeed
it
is. She’s told me what she
needs, but I’m sure it’s changed
by
now.
If you don’t mind, why
don’t you accompany me to the
forge, and
we’ll
talk to her about it.”

“By
all
means.”

Mr.
Murkor
placed the blade back on the
counter behind him, wrapping in
its
protective cloth before
escorting Mr. Rincil to the
forge.

Mr.
Rincil
hadn’t changed much over the
last six years. Leslie
knew
the elven
man was about the same age as
his father, probably even older,
but the
elf
didn’t look a day over twenty.
The tall, slender form
stood about
a head
over his father, and Leslie
still found the sapphire eyes
mesmerizing.
Maybe the long,
blue-silver hair was a little
less blue than it
had been
in the past.

Behind
Mr.
Rincil followed the only elven
child Leslie—or most people in
the
village
for that matter—had ever seen.
He remembered with some
embarrassment the
wonder and amazement he had felt
the first time they’d met those
six
years ago.
Unlike his older brother,
Jayden had changed quite a bit
since
then.
Leslie contrasted the shy
four-year-old—hair deep
turquoise not
yet
lightened with age, cowering
behind his brother—with the boy
before him
now.

The
elven
boy's stock-still discipline
meshed eerily with his
seven-year-old
appearance, but Leslie knew
better on both accounts.
The boy only
looked
seven to humans; he was really
ten, just like Leslie.
Leslie also
knew
that his friend was just as
bursting to ditch this stuffy
smithy as he
was.

"Jayden!"
Leslie
greeted, forgetting that he was
interrupting his father's
business.

"Leslie,
please,"
his father scolded.

"Sorry."
Leslie
sheepishly bowed his head taking
a place behind his father,
creating a
mirroring formation of the
visiting elves. His father
still
watched him,
waiting. "And sorry, Mr.
Rincil," Leslie continued,
taking his
father's meaning.

"That's
quite
alright," the older elf recited
politely, but he was clearly
annoyed.

"Um…"
Leslie
couldn't help himself, "Can
Jayden play?"

At
this
Jayden ventured a hopeful look
up at his brother. The
elder
sighed.
"Very well."

Both
boys
jumped excitedly, Leslie
characteristically more so, and
dashed
out of the
shop.

***

"Fire!
Fire!"
A few small wisps of flame
puffed from the space in front
of
Jayden's hands each time he
declared the spell. Two
boys and a
girl
shrieked in mock terror—though
the screams probably came more
from
excitement
at the display than their
childish acting—and ran from
where they had
corralled
the "dragon" against the edge of
the woods. Taking the cue,
Jayden turned the tables chased
after them, stopping every now
and then
to
shout "Fire!" and display his
dragonly ferocity.

His
brother
would probably scold him later
about such a gratuitous use of
magic.
But the other kids liked
seeing magic whenever they
could.
Brother
might even tell Mother about
using the Human language for
casting, and
then
he'd really be in for it; but
the kids could understand it
better and
it made
the magic weaker, which was good
for their games. This
talent had
earned
him quite a few highly coveted
roles in their games, and the
attention
from
other children was nice; there
weren’t any children in his
village
right now.
He was used to his family's
lectures by now. He just
wanted to
play.

Eventually,
Leslie
came back from his house,
bounding across the dry, grassy
field,
his
stick in hand. The three
children, still screaming, took
cover behind
him.

"Don't
worry,"
one of the boys told his younger
sister, "The great hero
Leslie will save us!"

Leslie
brandished
his stick as heroically as he
knew how.

"So,
big
dragon, picking on villagers
again?" he taunted in his
"tough-guy" voice.

"How
dare you
admonish me, vermin!" Jayden
shouted back thrusting his
hand in the air.
"Lightning!" Lights
crackled around his
extended hand. Jayden's
pride swelled a little at the
wide-eyed
looks on
the others’ faces, particularly
at the wonder on Leslie's.

Leslie
recovered
the quickest and replied.
"I don't know what you
just
said, dragon, but your tricks
won't work on me." He
rushed at
Jayden
swinging his stick, being
careful not to get too close and
hit his
friend.

The
two
boys danced around the grass
showing off their flashiest
talents.
This became a show more
than a battle, each eager to see
the
other's
newest tricks as well as show
off his own. The other
three
children
clapped and cheered in delight,
completely forgetting who they
were
actually
supposed to be rooting for.

After
a
few minutes, Jayden and Leslie
stood panting in front of one
another
in the
stalemate they had carefully
maintained for the whole game.

Finally
Jayden
declared, "You have done well,
mortal. Join my knights,
and I
will protect these peasants as
they tend my fields."
Jayden had
long
since forgotten whether he was a
dragon, king, sorcerer, or
anything
else.
The others probably had
too. That was how these
games went.
The "peasants" cheered
joyously and danced around with
their
hero and new
dragon-king-sorcerer-lord,
though it was still uncertain
whether
their hoopla was acting for the
game or excitement over the
display.

The
children
ran, trotted, and skipped back
to the village still shouting
and
chattering about the epic battle
they had just witnessed.
Soon
they had
found a ball and were kicking it
around the dirt and gravel
walkways of
the
village, causing many of the
adults to scold them as they got
in
people's ways.

The
girl
kicked the ball to Jayden.
He was about to pass it to
Leslie
when a
heavy figure slammed into him.
The assailant was easily
twice his
size
and Jayden fell to the ground,
hard.

"Heeey!"
was
the collective groan of his
friends, and when he looked up,
an
older boy of
about thirteen was tossing and
catching the ball mockingly with
one
hand.

"Come
on,"
one of the boys whined.
"Give it back."

"What
do
you care? Pointy-ears here
was playing with it," the older
boy
retorted. Jayden was
stunned for a moment, suddenly
self-conscious.

"All
of
us were playing with it, and you
know it," Leslie stepped
forward,
his
temper rising.

"Really?
You're
playing with this midget?"

Jayden
got
up from the ground and started
brushing himself off, his face
strangely
void. It was undignified
to become upset. That was
what his
mother
taught him, and he wouldn't
disgrace her that much.

"What's
that
supposed to mean?" Leave it to
Leslie—oblivious. Had he
not
already set his face, Jayden
would have smiled. "Give
back the
ball."

"You
should
start playing with the big kids.
Let that baby find a
rattle or
something."

It
was
then that Leslie figured out
what was going on, and he was
having
none of
it.

"Don't
talk
about Jayden like that!
Give back the ball and
apologize."

The
older
boy sneered at him. The
other children started shrinking
away.
"Or what?"

Leslie
hadn't
gotten there yet. He
didn't seem to care. He
stalked
over to
the older boy and repeated his
demand. "Apologize to my
friend."

By
this
point, Jayden noticed a few of
the older boy's friends were
starting to
gather around them as well.

"Fine,
if
he wants the ball, he can have
it." The boy hurled the
ball at
Jayden and turned to meet
Leslie's unspoken challenge.
He reached
out and
seized the younger boy's
shoulder, but paused.
Something wasn't
right.
He turned back to look at
Jayden. The little brat
had
actually
caught the ball!

Unnerved,
he
tried reading the elven boy's
face, and failed. The
boy's
expression
betrayed no emotion, no intent.

"I'm
about
to teach your friend
here a lesson," he warned,
hoping he
was
intimidating. He spat out
the word "friend" with disgust.
"You gonna do anything
about it, tiny?"

He
raised
a fist to Leslie who started
trying to break free, but had to
look back
once again when he heard the
ball drop to the ground.
He was just
in time
to see a blue shimmer streak at
him, then

WHAM

there
was
a tiny elbow in his side.

Caught
by
surprise, the older boy fell
sideways, barely catching
himself on
his knees.
Leslie almost fell with
him, but Jayden caught him by
the wrist,
giving
him balance.

"Jayden?"
Leslie
asked, half in surprise, half in
concern. His friend was
crouching
on the ground, breathing
heavily.

How
did
I manage that?
Jayden had just enough
time to think before he noticed
the other
older kids converging on them.
Their playmates had long
since
vanished.

Leslie
shook
off their tormentor's hand and
kicked him in the shin, sending
him the
rest of the way to the ground.

"You
little—"
Leslie didn't hear the
rest because Jayden was already
off
running. Caught by the
arm, Leslie ran as hard as he
could just
to not
get knocked over.

Eventually,
though,
the shock wore off and he
followed without being held even
pulling
ahead of his friend. Then
too far.

He
stopped
short, turning on his heel to
see Jayden struggling to catch
up
some
twenty yards behind. The
older boys were gaining fast.

He
ran
back and, once he passed Jayden
again, slid along the ground
stirring up as
much dust as possible.
Then he scrambled back to
his feet,
grabbing two
handfuls of dirt and gravel on
he way up. He hurled them
at the
boys as
hard as he could and took off
again after Jayden. This
time, he
ran
ahead, dragging Jayden behind
him by the hand.

"Head
for
the woods!" Jayden called out
from behind him. It was
then
that
Leslie realized he had no idea
where they were actually running
to.
He
had just kept running in the
direction Jayden had pointed
them.
But now
that he looked ahead, he could
see that Jayden had indeed taken
them
for the
forest.

The
edge
was pleasant enough, but inside
got thick, dark, and crawling
with
beasts.
It was dangerous, but
Leslie trusted his friend.
No human
knew the
forest like an elf, even a
ten-year-old, and the boys
wouldn't follow
them far
once they were in.

Leslie
put
on an extra burst of speed and
charged into the edge of the
woods.

At
first,
the only problem was avoiding
tree trunks and they could hear
the
muffled voices of their pursuers
behind them. But as the
foliage
got
thicker, they began to see a
shorter and shorter distance in
front of
them.
Leslie shoved through
anyway, forcing his way through
branches
and bushes
creating a temporary path for
Jayden in his wake.

"Bear
left,"
he heard Jayden call. The
voices behind them disappeared
and
they were hardly running
anymore, but the leaves and
branches scratched
at his
face and arms just the same.

Following
Jayden's
instruction, the path got
easier. After several
minutes,
they
toppled out of the foliage,
breaking into a clearing.

The
boys
sprawled, panting, onto the
ground, reveling in coolness of
the
moss
beneath their backs.
Jayden's rich turquoise
hair, now tangled
and
littered with leaves, fanned
behind him on the ground;
Leslie's short
reddish
brown locks, always messy
whether he'd been hurtling
through a forest
or not,
fell unchecked into his closed
eyes.

Leslie
could
stay here forever like this; he
couldn't care less if he ever
saw
those
jerks again.
Unfortunately, when it was
time for Jayden to go,
they would
have to return and be forced to
deal with the older boys again.
For now,
though, he'd enjoy the time with
his friend.

Jayden,
on
the other hand, was troubled.

"Maybe
Mother
was right," Jayden pondered.

"Huh?"
Leslie
inquired, still panting.

Jayden
mulled
it over a bit, regretting
opening his mouth before he had
caught
his
breath and before really knowing
what he wanted to say.
"Maybe…
maybe we can't be friends…"

"What?
Why?"

"Come
on.
You know why. You
saw how those other kids were
teasing
you."

"Me.
And
you'll keep getting
older than me. Are you
gonna start
being mean to me too?"

"What
in
the world are you
talking about?" Leslie was
getting
frustrated now. "You're
older than me!"

"Just
by
a few months, but that's not the
point. We're both ten,
but…
but…"

"If
we're
both ten, then we're the same
age—"

"But
we're
not…" He couldn't
quite figure out how to say it.
"You're a human. I'm
an elf."

"So?"

"So…
Elves
live at least three times as
long as humans…"

"I
know
that," Leslie asserted, becoming
saddened by the fact he tried
not
to
think about: that he would die
before his best friend.
That he
would grow
old and they wouldn't be able
play together anymore.
That his
best friend
would probably be lonely without
him. And that, one day,
one of
them
would grow tired of having to
push that thought away and they
would
just stop
being friends anyway. His
parents had tried to discourage
their
interaction various times using
this logic, but had finally
given in to
their
son's stubbornness; parents
can’t protect their children
from
everything.
For now, he would hold on
to his best friend and push
those
thoughts away
for both of them. "That
doesn't matter right now."

"'Right
now.'
That's not what I'm
talking about. Everyone
dies,"
Jayden said, knowing exactly
what his friend was thinking
about.
Sometimes it bothered him
too, but not as much as this.
"That
could happen even if you were
another elf…. What I mean
is… is…
Well,
I'll live three times longer
than you… so… it's like… you're…
three
times older
than me."

"Three
times
older…" Leslie mulled it over in
his head. "But we're both
ten."

Jayden
growled
in frustration. "I should
have known better than to
expect a human to
understand."

"Leslie,
I…"
He didn't quite know what
to say. Humans were
shallow,
fickle, and often stupid.
Many of their mannerisms,
he just
couldn't
stand. Elves could do
magic; most humans simply lacked
the focus,
to say
nothing of intelligence.
They were reckless and
impatient and
course and
loud and…

But
Leslie
was none of those. Well…
some… but that's what Jayden
liked about
him: his energy. Actually,
Jayden didn't know that many
humans.
Why
did he think all that?
Probably because of the
rest of the elves
in his
village… and maybe his mother.
And whatever other humans
were
like,
Leslie was different.
Leslie was his best friend
while most
humans saw
him as nothing more than a kid,
or another elf. He had no
right
lumping
Leslie in with them.

"I'm
sorry…
that was wrong."

"…
Probably…
I guess the people in your
village talk about us as
much as my
village talks about them."

Jayden
was
surprised by this. He knew
it was true, but he never
expected
to hear
anyone admit it. Then
again, if anyone was going to,
it would be
Leslie.
He was astute about things
like that without even knowing
it.

"Um…
thanks…"
That was the last thing
he'd expected, but Leslie still
surprised him regularly, even
after six years. He'd
learned just
to go
with it. Leslie's thoughts
were often clumsy and slow, but
if he
followed
them long enough, he usually
stumbled somewhere into the
realm of
brilliance.

"When
we
met, were both four, right?"
Leslie said after some thought.

"Yeah."

"And
were
we the same age then?"

"I
guess
so."

"I
may
not completely get it, but if I
was three times older than you,
and
you were
four when we met, then I would
have been…" Leslie paused and
played
with
his fingers a bit, "... ten.
I would have been ten,
then.
But
I'm ten now, so I can't
be three times older than you."

Jayden
blinked,
astonished, as he worked out
Leslie's reasoning. It was
flawed
in too many horrendous ways to
count, but still, it made a kind
of
sense.
The math was wrong, but
the logic was sound… or maybe it
was the
lack of
logic. The fact was, he
looked like he was seven to a
human, not
three
and a half. And hadn't
they seemed the same age when
they met?
Maybe the ratios weren't
so simple. Maybe there
were no
ratios.
Maybe neither of them grew
faster or slower. Maybe
they
just grew
different.

He
simply
laughed.

"What?
What's
so funny?"

"Twelve."

"What?"

"Twelve,
Leslie.
Four times three is
twelve."

"Oh."
Leslie's
face fell, his beautiful proof
effectively unraveled.
But
as Jayden continued to laugh,
his spirits raised again.
"Well,
see?
You're smarter than me and
I'm bigger than you. It'll
be
okay."

Jayden
stopped
laughing. After all that,
this is the conclusion Leslie
had come
to? 'It'll be okay.'
Was that it? Faith?
Hope?
Would that be enough to
hold their friendship together?
Maybe.
Yes. Leslie was like
that. It wasn't just 'hope
and
faith.'
For Leslie, even at such a
young age, or perhaps because of
his
youth,
hope and faith became raw
determination. And Jayden
could see,
even the
very first time they met, that
if Leslie was determined to make
something happen,
it would. It wouldn't be
easy, but he would find a way.

"Did
I
say something wrong?"

Jayden
smiled.
"No. Nothing at
all." If Leslie was going
to work so hard to keep them
together, he would just have to
as well.
He
would draw on that tenacity he
could never muster on his own
and it
would be
okay. They would make it
ok; that's what friends did.

In
the
spirit of his new resolution,
Jayden decided to tease his
friend a
little.
"But… are all humans this
simple?"

Leslie
didn't
take the joke quite as he'd
expected. "Hm… Maybe not.
I
think I might be a little
stupid."

Jayden
laughed
again, shaking his head as he
got up. "No. I think
you're the smartest human I
know."

"Really?"

"Yep."
It
was true—in more ways than
one—and like a candle had been
lit in his
head,
Leslie caught its double
meaning.

"Hey!"

Jayden
took
off, already prepared for this,
as Leslie scrambled up.
"I'm
gonna get you for that!"

"You
have
to catch me first," Jayden
taunted, "And I'm faster than
you in
here."

"No,
you're
not!" Leslie called back,
"You're just more… uh… argyle."

Jayden
furrowed
his brow as he ran. It was
an astute observation… with
one small
problem.